The Road to Vermont
by BlackStarAura
Summary: Six weeks after the election, Olivia Pope returns to Washington to make things right with Fitz and to fulfill their dream, but will they survive the treacherous road ahead? Post 3x18. Originally a one-shot; I decided to expand it. Rated M for future content.
1. Rock Bottom

"Love is a winding road, older than old, and hard to straighten

Love is a mystery, it's got a hold on me, and I just can't shake it...

Love is a dangerous word to those who fear losing control

'Cause love is a wild wind, and no one knows which way it goes..."

~ Jason Upton, "Love is a Winding Road."

* * *

December 21, 2012

She couldn't rest until she saw it again.

The welcome darkness of the taxi surrounded her, making Olivia Pope feel safe for the first time in months. Warm air filled the enclosed space as the snow danced on the other side of the windows, and she bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from drifting off to sleep. It had been over 36 hours since she'd slept, but she couldn't give in. She had to see it.

_'Miles to go before I sleep.' Robert Frost. Fitz loves that poem._

A wave of pain washed over her at the memory of her lover. The stormy gray-blue of his mournful gaze the last time they spoke, and the expression of total anguish on his face as he cradled his son's body in his arms had haunted her for the entire six weeks she'd been out of the country. Olivia knew she should have been there for Gerry's funeral, that Fitz would have needed her presence beside him more than ever before, but she was too wrapped up in her own pain and fear to stay.

_It was the biggest mistake of my life, leaving him. Again._

She had spent her self-imposed exile in paradise, but it was tainted by the shame of what she'd done to the only man who had ever truly loved her. Thinking back to a simpler time, Olivia remembered the moment when Fitz spoke about the state of his marriage during the South Carolina debate four years earlier. He said that he was in love with an incredible woman; then he looked directly at _her_ and she felt the longing rise in her chest that was immediately followed by the icy, stabbing knowledge that someday she would hurt him.

Many times since, Olivia had proven herself right. It was a hollow victory. Each time she ran away from him like a coward, telling herself that it was for the greater good of the nation or some other excuse, a part of her silently begged for Fitz to wait for her. Whenever she eventually returned to his life and he welcomed her back into his heart, she was happy. However, along with her joy, another part of her had always wondered what it would take to drive him away for good. Now she knew.

She took a deep, shuddering breath and looked out of the window. _There's no way he can forgive me for this. Defiance was devastating for us, but we found our way back to each other. This time, his son is dead and I flew into the sunset with another man. What he must have thought when he found out..._

The light of the crescent moon outside shimmered with her tears. _I left him all alone. _

"Are you okay, miss?"

Olivia glanced at the rear-view mirror and met the sandy-haired taxi driver's concerned gaze. He was young, perhaps a college student trying to earn extra cash during the holiday season. "I'm fine," she replied automatically as she dug into her backpack for a tissue. "Thank you."

The kid nodded. "No problem. We're here."

Through the snow dusted windshield, she saw the wrought iron gate of the property come into view and her mouth ran dry. She quickly wiped her eyes and stuffed the tissue into her coat pocket, then grabbed her wallet to pay the driver once he'd stopped next to the giant gate.

"Happy Holidays, ma'am."

"Same to you," Olivia said with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. She had always saved her real smiles for Fitz. She slung her backpack over her shoulder and climbed out of the cab.

Standing outside the imposing gate, she waited for the driver to turn the car around and disappear into the snowy night before letting go of the breath she'd been holding. She tried to ignore the pang she felt upon seeing the large "FOR SALE" sign beyond the bars, and failed. What reason would Fitz have had to hold onto it, after she left? None.

_I have to see the house one last time._

Olivia threw her backpack over the gate; when she heard the thud on the other side, she thrust her booted feet into the gaps in the floral design and climbed. They were orchids, her favorite flowers. Of course Fitz would have ordered the builders to create something she would have loved. After all, the entire house was designed with her in mind. She felt sick as she reached the top of the gate and swung a leg over, her insides twisting in mourning for the love she'd carelessly thrown away. Her feet met the ground, and she reached for her bag with trembling hands. The moon showed her the way.

She walked along the long snowy path towards the house, allowing herself to be impressed all over again by the great care and craftsmanship that the builders - guided by Fitz - put into the property. It was a labor of love; too bad it had been wasted on the likes of her. She squeezed her eyes shut. _Don't cry yet_, she thought to herself. _There will be plenty of time for that later._ Right now, she needed a clear head to see everything that could have been hers if she'd been strong enough to trust in their love. She needed to see the dream she had destroyed, before turning her back on it forever.

The wind picked up as Olivia climbed the stairs of the front porch, making her shiver in addition to the rollercoaster of emotions she was experiencing just by being there. She knew exactly what she was signing up for when she decided to fly to Vermont on the same night of her return to Washington, DC under a new identity. Her once legendary gut was in shambles when she ran away on Election Day, but time and distance along with some therapy during her absence had renewed and strengthened it. The new Olivia Pope gut told her that everything had changed in the world she'd tried in vain to leave behind. The "FOR SALE" sign confirmed everything she had feared: Fitz was done with her. She welcomed the pain of seeing the abandoned house to which she no longer had a right; she'd earned the heartbreak. Now she had to own her mistakes and learn from them, or else she would be doomed to forever repeat them and remain a self-annointed victim of her own fate.

_I've had enough of that mess over the last year. Longer than a year. No more._

With that thought in mind, Olivia opened her backpack and retrieved a high-powered flashlight, a small notepad and a set of keys. They were _her_ keys, given to her by Fitz during one of their many campaign brainstorming sessions in the Oval. She had stupidly believed that the gesture was him throwing her a bone; the President offering his mistress a petty token to keep the affair going while making no plans to divorce his wife, and that the "movie" of their romance would soon stop yet again. But the moment she had stepped onto her father's plane with _Jake_, the man who had physically assaulted her multiple times, instead of remaining at the side of the man she loved: Fitz, her beautiful, noble and gentle giant who would never dream of laying an angry hand on her, was when she finally realized that _she_ was the one who had repeatedly stopped their narrative from unfolding. Her eyes burned as she remembered slipping her resignation letter onto his desk while he was delivering his first State of the Union address; teaming up with Mellie, of all people, to lie about the sex tape and paving the way for America's Baby; backing out of "The Plan" to supposedly look out for her Gladiators, but she knew how disastrous _that_ idea had turned out. Except for their epic fallout over Defiance, it was always _Olivia_ who gave up on them.

Biting her bottom lip to hold back the tears, she switched on the flashlight and read the security code that was scribbled on the notepad. Olivia entered the sequence into the keypad beside the door, her heart in her mouth as she waited for it to be rejected. It wasn't. A green light flashed, and she rushed to put her key in the lock. It fit. Hot moisture streamed down her face as she opened the door and entered the dark house. The sounds of her footsteps echoed in the hallway as she made a beeline for the living room, where she and Fitz spent the night together. _Feels like it was a lifetime ago._

Olivia grabbed a couple of chest-level logs from the nearest wood cubby and knelt before the fireplace to start a fire, and within a few minutes she was rewarded with a rush of heat that enveloped her from head to toe. She didn't know how long she sat there, staring at the dancing orange flames with her heavy coat and boots still on; she was reluctant to get comfortable in the house he'd built for her. She no longer belonged there.

_This was going to be you and me raising a family... growing old together in this house._

The memory of Fitz's words accompanied her as she rose and toured the rest of the house with the flashlight, her yearning and regret present in every glance and touch of the magnificent rooms. She revisited the kitchen where she had once imagined herself making jam for Fitz and their family, the outline of the now bare and slumbering orchards visible beyond the sliding glass doors. She climbed the staircase to the upper floor, where the bedrooms for all of them would have been. At the end of the upstairs hallway, a fully furnished nursery had been decorated with warmth and loving care. Fitz's care.

_Bedrooms for lots of kids... It was supposed to be our house, Livvie. _

A sob escaped Olivia's throat, which quickly turned raw from the deep, agonized screams that followed. She curled into a ball on the floor of the nursery, finally letting herself grieve for all she had lost. No, not lost; what she had discarded like trash.

_I can't let it end like this, not without a fight. I have to make things right somehow. _


	2. Moving Forward

**Author's Note: Thank you so much for all the positive feedback on my story! Today's my birthday, and reading your wonderful comments have helped make it a great one so far. I mentioned before that I hadn't written anything in 8 years before starting this fanfic, so it means a lot that my attempt to correct the events in the S3 finale that upset so many people has been well received. **

**Since I'm trying to move the story forward from 3x18, I know there are a LOT of issues that I'll have to tackle in the coming chapters (Rowan, Tom, Harrison... Jake the Ripper), and I'll do my best to resolve them in a way that makes sense. **

**I don't own Scandal, but I wish I did, because in this story the characters act like adults, the LEAD is #1 and OLITZ is the endgame.**

* * *

"Can't bring back time. Like holding water in your hand."

~ James Joyce, _Ulysses_.

* * *

Fitz was dreaming about the house again.

In the dark stillness of his bedroom, visions of falling snow and laughing children played behind his closed lids. The picturesque mountains and woods of Vermont behind them, he chased his youngest kids through the calf-high snow, their excited laughter making him grin and spurring him on. A five-year old son and a three-year old daughter, their caramel skin and doe eyes were the perfect echo of their mother's; the contrast of them against the brilliant snowflakes that landed and melted on their faces was striking.

Stopping to catch his breath, Fitz watched them start building a snowman. Teddy joined the little ones a few minutes later, clearly enjoying his role as the big brother as he helped them pack and roll the snow to make the snowman's base. Karen came out of the house later still, carrying a large carrot from the kitchen, a floppy old hat and a handful of buttons to dress the finished snowman.

The entire time it took for his children to complete their winter project, Fitz could barely move or even breathe from the overwhelming love he felt towards his family. _This is what I've always wanted._ Suddenly, the side door of the house slid open and Olivia stepped out. He regarded his wife from the bench where he sat, memorizing every detail. She wore a hunter green cable-knit sweater, dark blue skinny jeans and black ankle boots. Her hair was the curliest he had ever seen it, and he wanted to bury his face in the luxurious softness. Fitz had always considered her to be the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, but now she was positively radiant and he understood that it was because she was finally at peace with herself.

_This is what I've always wanted with her: Peace. Love. For us and the family we've created together. We're finally home, Livvie._

Feeling the loving intensity of his gaze, Olivia beamed at him before addressing the kids.

"Hey guys, come on in for some hot cocoa! It's fresh!"

They both laughed at the screams of "YAY!" from the younger kids and Teddy while Karen cracked a smile and mumbled, "Well, since it's fresh and all..."

"That's my girl." Fitz rose from the bench to kiss his oldest daughter on the cheek as the kids walked past him to enter the house. "Do me a favor and help make sure the babies don't burn themselves?"

Karen nodded. "Sure, Dad." She turned toward the house and gave Olivia a warm smile before following her siblings inside.

Fitz walked to his wife and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her tight against him. "Speaking of hot cocoa," he growled as he stared at her parted lips before leaning forward and capturing them with his. Her hand traveled up his body to rest on the nape of his neck as he slipped his tongue into her mouth. He heard a low moan escape her, and Liv's tongue briefly caressed his before she seemed to remember that their kids were nearby. She laughed against his mouth before reluctantly pulling away.

"As delicious as that was, Mr. President, I think we should continue this at a later time."

Fitz flashed her his most seductive smile. "Count on it."

Olivia returned to the door and paused, looking at him over her shoulder. "Coming?"

"I'll be right there. I just need a minute to myself."

She nodded and slid the door closed behind her. Fitz took in the scenery of their country home, and his heart swelled when he remembered all the obstacles that he and Olivia had to overcome to reach this point. Then, the painful truth emerged from deep inside him.

_This is a dream. I know it is. I'm not really standing here. Olivia is gone, and we never had our two little babies. I don't want to wake up. If there is a God, let my heart give out now in this perfect moment, and I can join my son. Please._

"Dad, NO!"

The familiar voice sent ice water through Fitz's veins. It was a voice he never thought he would hear again. Startled, Fitz ran a hand over his eyes to clear them. "Gerry?!"

A tall, dark-haired young man emerged from behind the trees. Fitzgerald Grant IV was fully grown, much older than he was when he'd died. He wore a thick Harvard varsity jacket, and Fitz recalled his son once telling him that he'd wanted to try out for the baseball team once he was accepted to the prestigious school in a few years. Like his domestic bliss in the country with Olivia and his other children, an adult Gerry was yet another future that was denied by fate.

Fitz couldn't stop himself from slumping to the frozen ground, cradling his head in his hands. Violent sobs racked his body.

"I'm so sorry, Gerry! I failed you. I'm your father... I should have been able to protect you."

Gerry knelt beside him in the snow, his hand warm against his father's shoulder.

"It wasn't your fault, Dad. I never blamed you for what happened." The younger man's gaze was steady and true, and Fitz had no choice but to meet it. "Please don't blame yourself or wish for death. You still have a lot to do."

He patted his father on the back and returned to his feet. His wide smile was all Grant.

"I love you, Dad."

Relief and joy spread through Fitz when he heard the words he had wanted from his son for so long. He'd needed the confirmation that, at least to Gerry, he wasn't the Devil.

"I will always love you, son. I hope you know that."

Gerry nodded, his eyes shining. "Yeah, I do. Bye, Dad. Be happy."

"Bye," Fitz managed to croak out, and Gerry vanished into the pale Vermont sunshine.

* * *

Fitz slowly registered the presence of a hand on his bicep, shaking him awake.

"Are you okay?"

In the dream, he'd been free and complete with the love of his life; he'd played with his kids, both real and imaginary, and he'd gotten the chance to say a proper goodbye to his son. Awake, the dread returned to his body when he opened his eyes to the reality of his life and the face of his actual wife, Mellie. He must have made some noise in his sleep, since she had to walk all the way from her own bedroom next door to check on him. He gave her a curt nod, his mind slowly returning to focus.

"Yeah, I'm all right. Did I say anything?"

Mellie looked as exhausted as Fitz felt. "You kept calling out for Gerry."

He sighed heavily at her pained expression and dead eyes. "I'm sorry, Mel."

She sat on the edge of the bed next to him, placing her hand on top of his larger one.

"It's fine, Fitz. It's only been a month and a half since it happened, and it will be Christmas in a few days. _Of course_ he's still with us. Even with the family grief sessions we've had with Dr. Metzger all these weeks, progress won't happen overnight."

Fitz looked down at their hands. Where there should have been a sense of familiarity, warmth and passion between him and the woman that he had spent the last fifteen years of his life with, he only felt a dull ache in his chest where Olivia had once been. His jaw clenched hard at the memory of Election Day, his nervous breakdown following the loss of his son _and _the woman he loved. Mellie found him lying across the Presidential Seal in the Oval, a broken man. He bitterly remembered the great irony of the situation: "Saint Mellie," the supposed long-suffering wife of the philandering President of the United States, frantically trying to call her husband's campaign manager and lover. There was no answer. Even now, he could still feel the waves of nausea that he'd experienced that day when Tom informed him that she had left the country for parts unknown with Jake Ballard.

_Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Three times?! FOUR?! That just meant I was a total fucking idiot where Olivia Pope was concerned. Never again._

Mellie lifted her hand and stroked the side of his face. "Hey. Come back."

His eyes clouded over with pain, and a tear escaped before Fitz could fight it. He cursed himself for showing weakness in front of the woman who, at least until he'd found out the truth about Mellie's rape by his father over a decade before, the discovery of which was swiftly followed by their son's very public death, wouldn't have hesitated to mock his feelings or somehow manipulate them to her advantage.

However, the time they've spent together rebuilding their partnership as parents via marriage counseling, and reconnecting with Karen in group therapy sessions since the election may have opened the possibility of a truce between them. It wasn't love, but anything to make things easier for their surviving children was better than the explosive hostility that had plagued them through Gerry's and most of Karen's life. Teddy was too young to know any better; Fitz wanted them to get their act together so they could avoid wrecking another child.

Fitz took a deep breath and met his wife's eyes to see a curious flicker in them that he hadn't seen in a long time. Mellie's thumb traced the soft curves of his mouth, and he watched in shock as she leaned towards him for a kiss. He turned his face away from her before she could make contact. "No. I don't want that. Neither of us do."

"How are you so sure that I _don't_ want it, Fitz? We've been through a lot lately."

Shifting his body away from her, he climbed out of the opposite side of the bed from where she sat, picked up his Navy sweatshirt from the floor and put it on. Fully covered, he strode to the couch and sat down. "We need to talk, Mellie." He waited until she joined him, wisely choosing to sit a couple of feet away from him, before he began.

"'Pretending is what's real,' you once told me. Remember?" Fitz waited for her nod, and he continued. "With everything that's happened with us this year, do you still feel that way?"

Mellie's eyes widened for a split second, and she lowered them to look at her wedding ring set. He saw her shoulders drop, followed by the soft whoosh of the breath she released.

"I honestly don't know, Fitz. Us pretending to be the perfect family for the cameras, pretending to be in love... it's draining. We learned the hard way that it doesn't work for us, and that the kids became the collateral damage in our war despite our best intentions. But the alternative, going our separate ways? It frightens me, because what we've had all these years, as false and backbiting as it was, is still all I know."

Fitz leaned forward. "What about Andrew? My putting my fist in his face aside, you seemed happier with him than you ever were with me."

She blushed slightly. "Yes, I was. But Olivia got him to walk away from me too easily."

"That's only because - " He forced himself to stop talking and stared at the eggshell shade of the carpet under his feet. Even after the hurt of Olivia leaving him, and all the time he'd spent since then convincing himself that he needed to move on with his life without her, it was still second nature to him to want to defend her against Mellie. He shook his head.

_Pathetic. She made herself perfectly clear when she left. Why can't I let go?_

Mellie tapped him on the arm, and he returned his attention to her.

"Listen. I understand why it had to happen. I still kick myself over Karen finding out about me and Andrew the way she did, and also the way _you_ learned about it. It was never about jealousy, but respect. He was your best friend, I was your wife, and you didn't deserve such a blatant betrayal. At least with Olivia, you were discreet. So I'm sorry for that, and also for the slap."

Fitz hoped his surprise didn't show on his face. "Apology accepted."

She stopped fiddling with her rings. "You still want a divorce."

He nodded. "Yes. I was going to wait until after the holidays to bring it up, after our visit to Santa Barbara, but there's never a perfect time to talk about something like this."

A wry chuckle escaped Mellie's lips. "No, there isn't." She stared at him with an unreadable expression. "Have you heard from Olivia? Is that why you're asking for a divorce again?"

Fitz's eyes darkened, and he shook his head. "No. This has nothing to do with her. I'm asking because I've been thinking about this for a long time, and I believe that it's the best course of action for us and for our children. We're _toxic_, Mellie. You said the kids were 'collateral damage.' Our kids have suffered because we've let this farce go on for much too long. Let's put it to an end, so we can move on with our lives and begin to _heal_."

A long moment of silence passed. Mellie seemed to consider his words.

"What about the optics?"

He licked his lips, preparing for her resistance to his plan. "We'll do it quietly. No public announcements, no dramatic revelations live on prime time. Our marriage will just _dissolve_; no one will know except for us, our kids, Cyrus..."

"Will Andrew know?" Her voice had taken on a wistful quality, and Fitz realized for the first time that he was going to win his argument. It was a rare moment where Mellie was concerned; he would have to wait until he was alone to enjoy it.

Fitz took her hand. "If you think he should know, he'll know."

The corner of her mouth turned upward in a smile. "What about the First Lady title?"

"It's yours, for as long as you want it."

Confusion creased her brow. "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean, Mellie, that how we handle things professionally from now on is up to you. We made it back to the White House for another term; if you want to remain First Lady after the divorce, so be it. The world will think we're still married, after all. _Alternatively_, if you should decide that you want to establish your _own_ political career, the kind that you've said many times that you wanted, that's fine too. In that case, we will announce our divorce at an appropriate time, I will support you in all your endeavors and I'll never say one bad word about you to the press."

For a brief moment, Fitz let his mind travel back in time to Cyrus's hospital room following his heart attack. The plan for divorce that he'd related to Mellie and Cyrus that day had been devised by Olivia, and it was the exact same plan that he was presenting to his wife in the present with one key difference: no Olivia. Relying on Olivia Pope's erratic whims for his happiness had been a grave mistake on his part, a shortcoming that needed to be corrected. This was his way of finally putting the past behind him: using the strategies given to him by someone who had once claimed to love him to secure his freedom, and to protect his children from an endless, loveless marriage. Once their union was terminated, he and Mellie would move on as partners and maybe even friends, and Fitz would devote himself to his children and his country, in that order.

That would be enough for him. It had to be enough.

Fitz could see the wheels turning in Mellie's head, and he held his breath as she met his eyes.

"Okay. When do you want our lawyers to meet, before or after Santa Barbara?"

He didn't know how he managed to refrain from screaming his joy for the whole house to hear. "I think we should call our lawyers in the morning, give them a couple of days and then we can all have a meeting at the ranch on Christmas Eve to hammer out the terms." He grinned at his soon to be ex-wife, and surprisingly, it was returned.

"Sounds good." Her face sobered. "My parents are going to give me holy hell for this, but I don't much care how they handle it, to be honest. They'll have to accept it, and I'm sure they'll shut up once they realize how little the divorce will _actually_ change things."

Fitz rose from the couch, his legs slightly unsteady. He'd just crossed the finish line of a fifteen-year long marathon. "Absolutely. You'll still be with me on Inauguration Day, the parade, the balls. We'll both be there for our children. The rest is your decision."

She sighed, her eyes sparkling in the dim light. "We were good once, weren't we?"

"In the beginning, yes."

Mellie stood and hugged him. "Good night, Fitz."

"Good night, Mellie." She left his room, her walk more carefree than he had ever seen it.

Running a hand through his mane of curls, Fitz glanced at the bedside clock and grimaced. It was three in the morning, and he was supposed to get up at five to get ready for another day as President. After the conversation he'd just had, returning to sleep was out of the question. He went to his chest of drawers to pull out a pair of swim trunks and changed into them. Wrapping himself in a monogrammed terrycloth robe from his closet, he left his bedroom. A few laps in the Olympic-sized, heated pool in the basement would help relax him. He grinned to himself as he navigated the halls toward the elevator.

_This is shaping up to be an interesting Christmas._


	3. From Hell to Heaven

**Author's Note: Thanks again for your interest in my Olitz experiment. Sorry for the delay; life and writer's block held me up. **

**Before we start, I have a comment about one of the reviews I got for the last chapter re: Mellie and whether she'll answer in this fanfic for all the mess she put Olitz and others through on the show. I can't stand Mellie, and I understand the need for some to see her raked over the coals for all the evil she's done. I've read and enjoyed other fanfics where the authors have killed her off, put her in prison or The Hole for torture or solitary confinement, or they allowed Mellie to do her thing only for Olitz to totally defeat & humiliate her. **

**However, at least for now (my plans for later chapters aren't yet finalized), this isn't one of those fanfics. Because unlike the show, where we had Mellie shoved down our throats for all of S3, I refuse to give the nasty cow any more attention than she deserves, which is NONE. Beyond her involvement in the Presidential Divorce (which will definitely happen) and a few mentions of her as part of Olivia overcoming her issues, Mellie is irrelevant to the story I want to tell. **

**My priorities are giving Olivia a much needed "come to Jesus" moment (or several, because she's so messed up), reuniting Olitz, and cleaning up the mess the S3 finale left us with, so Mellie can ride Andrew to Hell for all I care as long as she and Fitz are civil with each other, and they're both fully committed to raising their children. **

**I'm not saying that she'll just ride off into the sunset with her new man and a fat alimony check with no consequences, but I have no plans to do anything serious that would end up traumatizing Fitz's surviving kids. Because when Fitz's kids suffer, Fitz suffers. When Fitz suffers, Olitz suffers. Like it's been said many times on Tumblr, there are plenty of opportunities for dramatic storylines without having to subject people to the endless horror of the Mellitz marriage. It ends now. **

**I hope that makes sense. I'm not here for Mellie at all. Or Jake. **

**I don't own Scandal, but I wish I did, because in this story the characters act like adults, the LEAD is #1 and OLITZ is the endgame.**

**(TRIGGER WARNING FOR DOMESTIC VIOLENCE IN THIS CHAPTER!)**

* * *

"And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom."

~ Anaïs Nin.

* * *

She had awakened with the dawn, and reluctantly left her dream house before she could be caught by anyone who may have had business on the property that morning. The "FOR SALE" sign was still in its place, mocking her as she walked past it, and once again Olivia chided herself for her grave mistake.

_If I'd had the courage and was honest with my feelings... If I'd stuck around DC to help him through his grief instead of flying away with that choke-happy idiot, Fitz and I could have found a way to make it work. But now, I'm trespassing on what should have been our property. Staying overnight and slinking away in the morning like a guilty thief, from OUR house._

Olivia took a shaky breath and raised her eyes to the realtor's contact information on the sign.

_Emily Morgan, New Day Realty. Her office is in town. _

Even if it was too late to salvage her bond with Fitz, she had to try. She owed it to herself, and she _definitely_ owed it to him. Every fiber of her being demanded the effort; she knew if things didn't work out with him this time, her heart, which had managed to survive the multiple tragedies of her life - her parents and their sick manipulations, the betrayal of people she'd considered friends, her misguided pattern of throwing herself into the arms of controlling, clingy men whom she didn't love and using them as cheap and empty distractions from the man she _DID_ - she knew what was left of it would freeze and shatter, leaving her with an empty void in her chest that would never be filled again.

The cold morning air touched the tears that she didn't realize she'd shed; she brushed them away with a fierce determination that she hadn't felt in a very long time. Too long.

_President Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III, Ph.D., is the love of my life, and it's beyond time that I start acting like it. Where's my damned pen?_

* * *

**December 19th, 2012 (Two Days Earlier)**

**Ibiza, Spain**

Olivia's heartbeat roared in her ears as she stumbled across the sand towards the sanctuary of the sea cave, the sound temporarily blocking out that of the waves. Pain lanced her ribs on her right side, the violent sensation stealing what little was left of her breath from the breakneck sprint she'd made between the villa and the beach. She refused to let herself stop until she was safely inside. Beneath her bare feet, the sand was still warm from the now setting sun; soon it would be too hard to see where she was going without a flashlight. It didn't matter to her. In that moment, nothing mattered except the knowledge that she was finally breaking free from the prison of her own design.

The sand eventually gave way to the azure Mediterranean, and the wetness that rose to her knees barely registered to her as she glanced down at her arms. Long sleeves, which - even in Ibiza - were a necessity for the winter, covered her skin from shoulders to wrists. She could feel the finger-shaped welts forming under the fabric, the marks left by a desperate man who had finally understood that he would never have her.

_I'm not second best_, Jake told her once. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

It was true; he wasn't second best. Or third. Or forty-seventh. Compared to Fitz, Jake Ballard was a pale and ridiculous imitation of a man. He was the brief shadow that crosses one's field of vision and fools the person into thinking there is another presence in the room, but then the light changes and it's revealed that there was nothing all along.

HE was nothing all along.

From the moment they'd first met, Jake Ballard was a master of deception, charming his way into her life and bed. Hindsight was a razor-sharp 20/20; it was also highly cruel as she relived every calculated smile he gave her, every corny line, every lie. She had fallen for it all, and when he eventually turned violent with her, she had convinced herself that SHE was to blame; that she'd somehow deserved each incident.

Concussion. Cracked skull. Swollen brain. Human shield. Closed airway. Screaming lungs. Black eyes. Ringing ears. Bruised skin. Busted lips. Eyeballs spotted with blood in the mirror. Sleepless nights. Jumping at every noise. Fear of going out. Endless tears. Fear of staying in. Bedroom doors blocked with furniture. Knife under her pillow.

_Don't touch me anymore._

Olivia bent and retched into the sea. _I was ripe for the picking, wasn't I? I was missing Fitz after he'd learned about Defiance, and suddenly there was this boy-next-door type trying to 'make me less sad.' Bitch, please. Little did I know that this so-called 'nice guy' would end up physically putting his hands on me in anger - which Fitz NEVER did, no matter how upset he was - and that I would become the saddest I've ever been because of Ballard, and despite it all I insisted on keeping that asshole in my life, even when he was no longer welcome in it. I brought him on the plane with me, and here I am. _

Her left hand slowly released the neck of the broken wine bottle she'd been holding. The sea swallowed the offering of glass and swept it away, leaving traces of red wine and Jake's blood swirling in the darkened waves at her feet.

_No more. Fuck you, you son of a bitch._

Panting, she wiped her mouth with her sleeve and trudged the remaining distance to the wide mouth of the cave's entrance. Her side throbbed where Jake had kicked her with his boot, and a whimper escaped her raw throat and echoed along the ancient, water-chiseled walls of her hideout. Olivia braced herself against the cool rock wall closest to her, and waded deeper into the large space. The chilly water inched up to her thighs, but she didn't falter until her feet met eventually met dry sand again. With a wince, she stepped out of the sea and sat on a flat rock, shivering from her soaked jeans.

She curled into a ball, her wide eyes scanning the cave mouth where she'd entered.

_It'll be dark soon. I need a minute to catch my breath._

Olivia was positive that Jake had no clue about her hiding place, since she'd always been very careful when visiting it, but she still couldn't let herself relax. She tried to regulate her breathing, but each movement of air fed the raging fire inside her chest. Fighting against the pain, she focused on the water in front of her.

Over the last six weeks on the island, she had come to the cave countless times; whether it was to hide after Jake's attacks, to meditate alone with her thoughts, to catch up on the many hours of sleep she'd lost after deciding to live with a psychopath, or to dream of all that she'd lost as a result of that choice, she always ended up staring at the sea. She loved the cerulean blue because it reminded her of Fitz's eyes that moment on the campaign bus over four years before, when he'd confessed that she was 'the one.'

_Suddenly, I'm looking down at myself and... how did I get here?_

She couldn't count how many times she'd sat on her rock, asking the same question.

_What kind of a coward was I to marry her and not wait for you to show up?_

Her whisper in the dark space was as broken as she felt.

"How cowardly was it of _me_ to keep shutting you down? You wanted to marry _me_, and I didn't understand why you... so I ran. I sabotaged every attempt you made to break free from Mellie under the guise of protecting you and the Presidency, but all the while I did it to protect _ME_. Oh God, I was so stupid. I love you so much."

The last slivers of blue in the water faded to black as night fell. She closed her eyes and felt the hot sting of tears gathering behind the lids.

_Every minute without you has been Hell. I wish I could turn back the clock and do everything differently. I wish that I had never participated in Defiance, or at least that I'd had the balls to tell you what happened, before you had to find out from that bitch Verna. I wish that I had used my damn words and spoke to you about things, instead of just leaving my resignation letter on your desk while you were giving your first State of the Union address. I wish that I hadn't gone behind your back to Mellie to negotiate "America's Baby." I wish that I'd had more faith in my ability to bring our Plan - our DREAM - to life instead of abandoning you so many times. I wish I had never laid eyes on Jake Ballard. I wish that I had chosen YOU, the way you chose me. God, I wish. _

Olivia straightened her spine and inhaled deeply from the salty air, embracing the pain.

_What's done is done; there's no way to take it back. But I will do whatever I can to make it up to you. I will EARN your trust and love again, if it's the last thing I do. _

"OLIVIA!"

With a gasp, she opened her eyes to see a giant flash of light cross the opening of the cave, and she immediately relaxed when she recognized Paco's small motorboat approaching. Careful of her ribs, she slowly rose from the rock and leaned on the cave wall. "I'm here!"

The boat gently nosed into the cave, its powerful spotlight traveling the length of the aquatic safe haven before resting on where she stood. Licking her dry lips, she turned her face away from the blinding beam until Paco directed it away from her.

"Oh, my God. I should have come sooner."

The elderly man's words brought her gaze upward, and she met his kind eyes.

"No, Paco. We all agreed that nightfall was the best time to get me off the island. There's no way you could have known this would happen, so please don't blame yourself."

A rueful grimace shaped Paco's weathered features, and he kicked the rope ladder down the side of the boat and into the water nearest Olivia. "_Hijo de perra_! If we weren't pressed for time, I'd go to the house and kill him myself for what he's done."

Olivia grinned slightly, as much as her battered face would allow without pain. She slowly climbed the rope ladder and carefully sat down on one of the red leather seats of the boat, trying to will the pain in her ribs to fade.

"I know, and I appreciate it. Where's Serena?"

Paco turned away from her and rummaged through a box at the front of the boat, eventually pulling out a small, fat folder and handing it to her. "Last time I spoke with her today, she was taking care of the tickets for your flights back to the States."

She ran a hand over the dark leather binding of the folder.

"Flights, as in more than one?"

The older man nodded. "Taking a direct flight to DC from Barcelona would be too risky. Much too easy for the bastard, or your father, to track. So Serena's getting you a flight to London first, and there you will change planes for Washington."

Olivia hummed in agreement and opened the folder to reveal a passport, photo IDs, Social Security card, credit cards, traveler's checks, various forms of insurance, bank statements, tax documents and pay stubs going back years under her new alias, and a large wad of cash. It was everything she needed to start a new life, and she briefly remembered when she and Huck had made the same arrangements for Quinn after the Cytron explosion.

She'd saved Quinn's life by giving her a new one, and she had repaid Olivia by running off to join B6-13 and later pulling a gun on her. A bitter laugh rumbled in her chest, and she was relieved that it didn't trigger further pain. She was gradually adapting to the damage her body had taken, and she was glad for it. Olivia needed the pain to spur her on.

Paco cleared his throat, and she returned her attention to him.

"I have transferred the money to your Grand Cayman account. You're all set."

Turning the key, he restarted the engine and put the boat in reverse, guiding it out of the cave. He watched her from the corner of his eye as he backed the boat up.

"Are you sure you want to return to America, to all the insanity you left behind? The world is a very big place, with many countries. Anywhere you want to go, you can go."

Olivia closed the folder and held it to her chest. "I love him, Paco. All those other countries don't have him in them. I've made the mistake of trying to live without him, many times, and I can't do it anymore. I'm _tired_ of being without him. I should have been on this beautiful island with _him_, not the abusive sack of shit who's out cold in the villa!"

Paco gave a solemn nod. He knew the identity of _him_, and Grant's status as a world leader - a married world leader - didn't faze Paco at all because he knew that the man made his dear young friend happy. For that reason alone, he could not judge him.

Lying back in her seat, Olivia regarded her friend. Six weeks earlier, when she had first arrived on Ibiza and rekindled her friendship with him and his younger sister Serena, she was a shell of her former self. Nearly every day, she'd walked from the St. Anthony villa she shared with Jake the Bastard to the neighboring San Juan to visit the hacienda where Paco and Serena lived, and that was how often Olivia and Serena had their private consultations. Besides the sea cave, when she'd needed a safe place to go, they had welcomed her with open arms.

Like a baby bird learning to overcome its fear of falling so it could fly, through Serena's frequent and intense therapy sessions, Olivia had finally pulled back the curtain and delved into the reasons why she'd made the decisions that had tormented her life, and she also tried to find ways of avoiding the same mistakes.

_Fear of abandonment? Check. Past solution? Leave the man before he could leave me. Deep down, I saw each man as a substitute for my dad, who didn't love me. Every man I've been with, I've left at some point. Hell, I almost married Edison twice! And Fitz... I was always leaving him behind. Too many times for him to ever forgive me? But that was just the romantic side of things; what about my need to collect broken people to fix them? I tried to fix my former Gladiators, my clients, even that FOOL whom I knocked out in the kitchen half an hour ago. Future strategy? What's next on the agenda? _

"Livia!"

The boat cleared the cave's mouth and fully emerged outside. Olivia shook off her self-analyzing thoughts and looked up to watch her oldest friend, Serena Ramirez, run through the high tide to meet the boat. Her face, which was usually carefree and youthful in a way that contradicted her fifty-five years of age, was twisted with worry. In her hands was the backpack that Olivia had forgotten in her haste to leave the house after her brawl with Jake. She waited until her friend climbed the ladder and joined them inside the boat before asking the question she'd dreaded.

"Where is he?"

Serena pulled the rope ladder out of the water and tossed it on the deck. "He has left."

Olivia felt another pang inside her chest. She'd hoped that he would still be knocked out so she could make a clean escape, but if he'd left the house... "What do you mean?"

"After I secured the tickets, I had a bad feeling and went to the villa. I saw the disarray and knew that you'd fought with him. I saw the blood on the floor, but no sign of you or the asshole. So I grabbed your bag and rushed out here, and thank God you made it."

The older woman's eyes were moist as she gingerly touched Olivia's bruised jaw.

"Fucking bastard."

Olivia took Serena's hand away from her face and held it between hers as the boat sped off into the night, heading towards the mainland and Barcelona. _Freedom._

"He doesn't matter. I'll be okay. I promise."

She waited until her friend nodded in assent before she continued. Despite everything, her eyes danced with happiness for the first time since she'd left Washington.

"I can't thank you enough for all you've done for me. Both of you."

Paco briefly turned from the boat's controls to deliver a salute to Olivia, and Serena gripped her hand tightly. "We love you, _cariño_. Whatever happens when you return to America, please remember that you are loved. Hopefully the knowledge will help make your mission easier to bear. _Please_ don't be a stranger this time."

_Shutting people out, that's another nasty habit of mine that needs breaking._

Ignoring the pain in her chest, Olivia opened her arms to the woman who had been more of a mother to her than Maya ever was, and she sobbed into Serena's shoulder when the older woman held her close. "It's okay, Livia. It will all be okay."

"I'm so sorry. It won't happen again."

A shiver racked Olivia's body, cutting their embrace short. The combination of the night air and her damp clothes had finally gotten to her. Serena quickly realized what happened, and left her seat to grab the backpack she'd carried onto the boat.

"Here, I grabbed a change of clothes from the house."

Grateful, Olivia accepted the fresh pairs of jeans, socks and boots, along with a teal cashmere sweater that reminded her once again of Fitz's eyes and the journey that awaited her. She peeled the wet fabric away from her shaking legs, glad that the sea water had only gone up to mid-thigh. Serena handed her a large handkerchief, which she used to wipe away as much moisture as she could before reaching for the dry clothes. When she finished, a sigh escaped her from the welcome warmth they gave. As for a coat, she would have to buy one when they reached the airport.

"Better?" Serena asked as she picked up the discarded wet clothes from the deck and loaded them into a canvas bag, then tying it closed.

Olivia leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes, a wave of exhaustion from the day's events washing over her. She couldn't open them again if she tried. "Much better."

Her friend's voice grew fainter as she fell into sleep. "That's right, dear. You'll need your energy for the road ahead. Don't worry about anything, or anyone, except for the man you love. He is all that matters. Sleep. When your plane takes off, there will be plenty of time to figure out what you want to do. _You can do this._ You've done so much already..."

The last words she remembered hearing were: _I'm so proud of you_.

* * *

Olivia was almost there. Luckily, the pain in her chest had lessened to a dull ache, but she knew she had to get it looked at by a professional at some point. In hindsight, she was amazed that she hadn't felt anything when she climbed the iron gate of the property the night before, but she guessed that she must have experienced some sort of adrenaline rush in her haste to see and enter the house.

The snow crunched under her booted feet as she climbed down the hill which led to the town of St. Albans, Vermont. _Not to be confused with the City of St. Albans_, Fitz told her late one night in the Oval, during the campaign and between tender kisses. Safely away from the prying eye of the ceiling camera, they'd stood in their spot at the window and talked about the place they dreamed of calling home one day.

_Okay, I'll bite. Why do they both have the same name?_

Fitz's eyes had sparkled with mischief, and as always, they'd taken her breath away.

_Well, the "City" of St. Albans is really just the center of the town, about two square miles of land compared to the town's sixty square miles surrounding it. They were separated in 1902._

Olivia remembered giggling at the information because it had been the first time she'd heard of a town that was larger than a city. _That's SO out of the box; leave it to you to pick a place like that to build our house, Fitz._

He'd grinned widely when she said "our house," and the memory of the hope in his eyes broke her heart now that she stood alone in the winter snow, looking down at St. Albans and Lake Champlain in the distance.

_There's another reason why I chose that town..._

She let herself enter the memory again, reliving the warmth of his body pressed against hers and the intoxicating smell of his cologne. She snuggled closer.

_Mmm, tell me._

His huge hands lovingly cupped her bottom and squeezed. _A very delicious reason..._

Desire bloomed inside of her from his touch. He was always so gentle with her, at least until she specifically asked for him not to be, in bed. She never had a reason to fear _him_, because she knew that he would rather die than do her serious bodily harm.

_Mmm, baby... what is it? _

Fitz's chuckle was deep and rich against the sensitive skin of her throat.

_It's the maple syrup capital of the world!_

Olivia tilted her head back and looked at him as if he'd sprouted two extra heads before she started laughing.

_Oh my God, that's so corny! Maple syrup, really? What, do you expect me to make pancakes for you in addition to all the jam? No, let me guess: French toast?_

His answering smile was positively devious. _Waffles, actually._

She bit the inside of her cheek to control her laughter. _Waffles_, she'd managed to deadpan before her smile returned. She had missed sharing such lighthearted moments with him. When she was with him like this, she could almost forget that there was always some person or situation lurking around the corner to ruin their happiness, even if most of the time it was _herself_ doing the ruining or a crisis that she'd had a hand in creating.

Olivia jolted back to the present. The town of St. Albans was only a moment's walk away, and she knew it was her last chance to turn back. _Turn back to what? Pain? Fear? Emptiness?_ She'd had enough of that over the past six weeks to last a lifetime. Shit, her entire _life_ had been governed by fear. Now, she needed _love_; she needed Fitz. It was time to finally set in motion the plan she'd devised in the many hours she spent riding in planes between Spain and Vermont, when it was just her and the sky and no excuses to back out.

Thinking back on her life, she realized with more than a little sadness that this was the very first time that she was embarking on a personal decision _on her own_, without some third party having a say or taking action to influence her feelings. First, it was her father who had controlled every aspect of her life, who molded her into his perfect little Gladiator to unleash on the world at the cost of everything else. The only reason she'd accepted Edison's first marriage proposal was because she had felt the need to use Edison as a scare tactic against her father, as a tool to expose the truth about Wonderland. The arrangement didn't end well for her former beau. If she hadn't broken her engagement with him and cut off all contact as Rowan had demanded of her, Olivia knew that he would have eliminated both Edison and Huck without batting an eye.

Then it was Cyrus, to whom she had unfortunately granted more power and deference in her matters of the heart with Fitz than he had any right to deserve. The memory of their talk in her office after hours, following her supposed brush with death at the hands of a woman B6-13 operative - when the truth was that the woman had been sent by Rowan to kill JAKE, and the coward had used her as a human shield and later pretended that he'd saved her life, which she'd fallen for like a damned idiot - still stung when she remembered the older man's harsh words about how life wasn't a fairy tale and that a life with Fitz was impossible, and then he'd dropped the bomb that devastated and paralyzed her: the revelation that Fitz had killed Verna.

Like the martyr she'd been trained by her father from birth to play, she'd taken it all on herself. She'd participated in Defiance, so _she_ was responsible for the killing of all those people in the Cytron explosion, for destroying Quinn's former life, for the death of Britta Kagan, for the assassination attempt on Fitz, and for Fitz taking the dying woman's life because of her role in his attack. She'd seen herself as the root of all evil, and her tragic, "it's always my fault" complex is what Cyrus had counted on to keep her and Fitz apart.

It had worked like a charm.

Also, there was Mellie. _Oh, Mellie._ In the first moment of their acquaintance, she was the typical Fox News darling, stone-cold Republican bitch type who didn't give a shit about her husband unless there was a camera nearby. Then Olivia had come along, and the moment the ice queen realized that Fitz was serious about her beyond an exotic roll in the hay and that - heaven forbid - he wanted to marry _her_, Mellie went on full alert and, often with Olivia's help, made their lives hell ever since.

The less said about the encounter with Mellie in the White House hallway after she'd found out about her and Fitz, the same day she'd decided to resign, the better. She had been so shocked and ashamed during that eerily calm confrontation that she didn't even think to defend herself. Sadly, she didn't think to defend herself at any other time. _Whore_ had been the bitch's favorite insult against her; even when she'd caught Mellie and Andrew in the act, the woman's nerve remained in tact.

Olivia gave that miserable bitch even more power over her relationship with Fitz than even Cyrus, and that was really saying something. She had taken Mellie's bullying for years with almost zero backlash, she'd kept opening the door for the First Lady to walk in and stomp all over her, and multiple times she had used Mellie as an excuse to deny herself happiness with the man she loved.

Even when she had learned the truth about Mellie, Big Gerry and Andrew, she'd chosen to either cover the shit up or expose it when she needed to strategically distance herself from Fitz. As soon as Fitz had brought up Vermont again in the closing days of the election, she threw Mellie's rape in his face because she couldn't accept the idea of walking into the sunset with him, even if he _had_ lost the election.

In her poisoned mind, she was a monster who didn't deserve a great man like him; she didn't deserve love, period. So instead, she'd chosen once again to give Fitz up in favor of other monsters like her: her father, Cyrus, Jake...

_Look how well that turned out._

Olivia's heart pounded against her aching ribs. The town looked like something out of a Norman Rockwell painting, but it was _real_ and close enough for her to reach out and touch. She was sick of always standing on the outside looking in. Long ago, she'd preached to Stephen about taking the required leap to "get some normal," but she'd been the biggest hypocrite in the world because at the same time she had been incapable of doing the same thing when it came to Fitz. Now, she stood at the threshold of a new life.

With a deep breath, she entered the town.

* * *

**A/N: Hey, guys! This chapter was originally supposed to be a lot longer, but I figured 3 weeks without an update was too long. I hope it was worth the wait. **

**One thing before I move on to work on Chapter 4: PLEASE don't be offended if I don't reply to your reviews right away! I am grateful for every one of you whom have taken the time to offer feedback on my story so far, good and bad. Either way, it's a big compliment. Just putting it out there that every writer has his/her own style, and mine is to save the reviews for when I'm at least 3-4 chapters ahead. Meaning that I'll read the feedback left for this chapter while I'm working on Chapter 7. I've decided to go this route because the last time I updated, I came very close to dropping spoilers during a discussion with a reviewer, so I'm trying this new approach. I love this story and the ideas I have for it going forward, but I can't spread that shit around just yet, LOL! **


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